


A twist of fate, forcing our hands

by Nalyra



Series: Truths we are dealt [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alpha Hannibal, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Claiming Bites, Emotional Sex, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Healing, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Murder Husbands, Omega Will, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Hannibal, Post-Canon, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Post-Season/Series 03A AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-21
Updated: 2016-10-21
Packaged: 2018-08-23 15:14:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8332432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nalyra/pseuds/Nalyra
Summary: What if Wills question of "Is Hannibal in love with me" was his final step towards accepting that Hannibal loves him as he is?And that Hannibal does even though he does not know the truth? POST TWOTL A/B/O





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So.
> 
> This starts with the 'Going my way' - triggered by Bryan Fullers 'their lips were busy' ([Tweet](https://twitter.com/bryanfuller/status/782320117161926656)) which I could not, for the life of me, consolidate with what later happened at the cliff house and/or how I wrote ['Baptism'](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6561175).
> 
> Aargh.
> 
> I mulled over this for a long time and - and I'm still not quite sure why - it just naturally became an A/B/O.
> 
> *clears throat*  
> Enjoy.

He has to crawl over two dead officers, face pulled into a grimace for an instant. Of course they are dead, he was orchestrating and naturally expecting it and yet… Will sighs, deeply, before raising his eyes to Hannibal, who is striding purposefully towards the flashing lights, looking after the car hightailing down the road. Hannibal is taking off his straight jacket and bite mask, his face turned away slightly and up towards the sky, inhaling deeply, no doubt committing the moment to memory, a clean-cut stark vision against the low sun, short hair illuminated by it. 

Hannibals voice pulls Wills attention to him, unguarded and almost cheerful, making something deep within Will clench, the need to hear it again unfolding at rapid speed, even though the words themselves are grave.

„He’s not gonna kill us here. What he wants to to requires something a little more private.“

Will closes his eyes for a moment, the headache throbbing behind them, trying to step hard on the elation and … hope he conversely feels at the words. He crawls out of the van slowly, coming to stand in front of it, carefully examining his feelings, with almost giddy anticipation and consternation most prominently present. His voice is gruff when he throws the question at Hannibals back, wondering at his own curtness. Wondering if he is only so cross because Hannibal doesn’t quite look at him and instead takes off towards the police car, apparently without caring too much.

„What are you doing?“

He can hear the smug smile in Hannibals voice, even though Hannibal keeps striding without stop, throwing a look back. Will grinds his teeth, his jaw working. 

„You know Will, you worry too much. You’d be much more comfortable if you relaxed with yourself.“

Hannibal pulls the door open and pulls the dead officer out, throwing him carelessly onto the road before getting in, reminding Will of the bed he made for himself. Or would that be for both of them. Hannibal starts the car and drives over to Will, opening the passenger door, pushing the second officer out at Wills feet. Will doesn’t look down, aware that he cannot pull himself away, cannot fight the magnetism binding them together, doesn’t even want to, now, his eyes on Hannibal. Hannibal smirks and leans forward, eyes sparkling, a happy smirk twitching along his lips. Will swallows, the words rushing in his ears.

„Going my way?“

Of fucking course. Trust Hannibal to be flippant in a situation like this.   
Will levels him with a look that is decidedly on this side of exasperated and asshole, and yet… there is something like a smile, wanting to break free.   
It must show on his face because Hannibals face softens almost imperceptibly, the smile turning more honest for a moment. Will raises his chin, their eyes still locked and then purposefully breaks the gaze and steps over the dead man at his feet, dropping into the seat with a sigh, the dull slam of the door sounding like a drum, sealing his fate. 

He looks out of the windshield for a moment, his hands fidgeting in his lap, all his senses trained on Hannibal, now like a burning furnace in his mind, so near it feels scalding. He starts when he feels Hannibals right hand on his left knee, squeezing lightly, the touch traveling through him, and Will fights with himself, aching with emotion… and other things. ‚But do you ache for him?’. What a joke. He can feel Hannibal inhale next to him, none too secretly or god forbid discreetly, the hand on his leg tightening for a moment before it disappears again. Will closes his eyes before he clears his throat, wondering if he knows, voice raw.

„We should get going. They’ll be here soon.“

There is no response for a long few seconds and finally Will opens his eyes again and turns his head, meeting Hannibals gaze head on. It is dark and unfathomable deep, wanting. Wills mouth is dry, no words available to convey his feelings, jumbled as they are, even without all of -that- complicating everything. Hannibals right hand slowly travels up Wills left arm, coming to rest in Wills neck, gripping only very lightly, almost seeming as hovering. Will swallows, close to shaking, mouth falling open a bit, breath changing to soft pants. It is unclear who leans in first, the hand on his neck scorching but without real pressure, guiding but undemanding. Will stops with only a few millimeters between them, breaths and pheromones mingling, eyes flicking back and forth rapidly, the shared body heat making his head swim, trying to gather the last of his wits, trying to grasp at why this is such a bad idea. Why he is still fighting.

„I…“

If Hannibal had made one of his stupid cannibal jokes or if he had ridiculed Will, maybe it would have turned out differently, but he only breathes Wills name softly and it punches through Wills last defenses, a vulnerable sound stealing out of his body, more felt than heard, that nonetheless serves as catalyst, the hand on his neck suddenly bruising in intensity, pulling him forward, dry lips pressing against his own, just holding, holding, and Will squeezes his eyes shut, against the tears that threaten to fall. He breathes in harshly through his nose and then opens his mouth a fraction more, shakingly tilting his head, feeling Hannibal hum and do the same, the soft glide rushing through him. 

It’s a rather soft kiss still, just pressure, holding, getting used to the feel of how they could possibly fit together, Hannibals puffs of breath harsh against Wills left cheek, stubble an impression of roughness, driving home the fact that he is in fact kissing Hannibal. The hand in Wills neck releases its grip and travels up, softly massaging the hair in Wills nape and before he can really think he moans with it, echoed by Hannibal, the rumble traveling from his body to Wills, and then Hannibals other hand is on Wills jaw, just holding there, carefully. Will shakingly raises his arms to Hannibals arms, feeling the coarse material of the prison jumpsuit under his fingertips, his fingers tightening on the rough cloth, the thought that Hannibal must deeply hate the utilitarian material there and gone again.

Will draws back slightly, panting, licking his lips and Hannibal follows him with a small moan, pressing into him, softly sucking on Wills upper lip. Will lets him, trying to form a thought, any thought really, there and lost again when Hannibal traces his cupids bow with the tip of his tongue, a wet hot scorching line, turning frigid in the air when Hannibal continues to the right corner of Wills mouth and onward, finally licking into Wills mouth with soft and careful licks, the strokes mapping Wills lips and he jerks and snaps, meeting Hannibals tongue finally, finally, the touch electric and all consuming. The hand on his jaw pushes slightly to turn his head and Will follows the suggestion, needing now, needing, opening his mouth wide. 

Hannibal strokes into him, the action electrifying other regions of his body as well and Will pushes his own tongue against the invading muscle, moaning with the feeling of possession. He opens even wider, unconsciously tilting his head even further, the kiss turning sloppy suddenly, messy, and heavenly dirty and Will cannot help it, he gives as good as he gets, pushing back, taking, receiving and then he bites down slightly, and the hand in his hair pulls tight, forces them apart, tilting Wills head back, and Hannibal rears back slightly, both their mouths wet and glistening in the low light, the sheen captivating. Will watches through his lashes as Hannibal licks his lips and echoes the motion, sees the snarl this mirrored motion elicits. He huffs a throaty laugh and then moans deeply when Hannibal leans forward and harshly bites at his lower lip in retaliation, worrying between his teeth, and Will hisses with the pain. 

Hannibal retreats suddenly, the fingers in Wills hair holding him in place against the passenger seat and Will can literally see the brilliant mask descending, indifference coloring Hannibals features within moments, Will watching on in rapid fascination, not buying it one inch. And not pretending to. Hannibal drops his hands from Wills body, turning back to the wheel, and Will counts it as a personal victory when Hannibals voice does not match the perfectly polished portrayed exterior.

„We need to get going. They will be here soon.“

Will huffs another laugh and grins, before he deliberately drops his hands and adjusts himself, knowing Hannibal can see the motion from the corner of his eyes, keeping his voice soft. 

„Yes, please…“

Hannibal shoots him a look that is distinctly annoyed and yet strangely proud and vulnerable, and Will smirks, facing forward.


	2. Chapter 2

The first few minutes are silent, but Will suddenly feels he cannot stay that way, cannot go into what might very well be their final fight without speaking, exchanging, communicating…. conveying. He breaks the weirdly comfortable silence, keeping the tone light.

„Where are we going?“

Hannibal takes his time answering, obviously weighing his words, voice controlled and measured again by now. It sends tingles down Wills spine, hearing the low cadence again, once more in a car, driving somewhere together. He flashes back for an instant to all the car drives almost 5 years ago, how he would fall asleep to this voice, not knowing the disastrous influence. No, he amends quietly to himself, he fell asleep to this voice even when he knew. Would relax even though he knew exactly who he was sitting next to. Kindred spirits, recognizing each other even through husks of flesh. And flesh that would be compatible as well if only Will allowed. Will sighs quietly and Hannibal shoots him a look, his gaze deliberating. 

„As Chiyo informed me, I believe you wanted something close to the coast? I have a longstanding property just one hour from here, fitting that description nicely.“

Hannibal pauses for a moment, watching Will from the corner of his eyes.

„Tell me, Will, why the sudden change in attitude?“

Will sighs through his nose, raising his eyebrows, thumb tracing along his left wrist, where the final disguise is hidden.

„You mean why am I here, acknowledging… things… instead of… obfuscating?“

Hannibal tilts his head a bit towards him, pursing his lips, nodding once and Will huffs a laugh, just a bit on the bitter side.

„You made sure of it. And you know it. You took everyone away again, except you. Soured the thought of my family. And as furious as I may be about that, I…“

Will stops, thoughts racing and yet sluggish, his emotions jumbled. He drops his head back onto the headrest, shaking his head softly at himself, tone almost inaudible.

„… I only truly know myself when I’m with you.“

He turns his head towards Hannibal, voice raw.

„I see you and you see me. We’re identically different.“

Will smirks and then clicks his tongue, wondering how much Hannibal in fact knows this to be true, his tone growing mischievous, viciously and deliberately teasing, utterly sarcastic. 

„And therefore, Dr. Lecter, I have finally decided that you’re stuck with me now. Congratulations.“

Hannibal chuckles for a moment before he draws his brows together, considering.

„You wish to leave behind the mortal coil… Become who you are destined to be, at my side. A true killer.“

Will fidgets in his seat for a moment, before he contradicts.

„I don’t have your appetite, I told you that. And… it is still true. However, I’m a good fisherman, and someone told me once that it was the very same thing as hunting…“

Will looks over at the silhouette of Hannibal against the setting sun, sees the almost melancholic smirk pass over his face, there and gone again. Hannibals voice is amused though guarded.

„And you are on a hunt now?“

Will smirks, his voice lowering to a seductive drawl and he watches for signs of effects this may have on Hannibal. He isn’t disappointed when he sees him twitch slightly, unconsciously, though Will suspects it may just as much be the words.

„A pack hunt, yes. Taking down the most dangerous beast of all.“

Hannibal smiles.

„The great red dragon.“

Will grins cruelly, teeth flashing, choosing his words carefully, twisting the meaning around.

„Ah. You think so?“

Will turns forward again, resolutely, deliberately ignoring the look Hannibal shoots him. It must be unsettling to doubt he muses quietly, some of the fury at the whole mess rekindling. If he is honest this feels a bit petty and yet he cannot help to feel elated at the thought that Hannibal might think he would consider taking Hannibal down together with the dragon. As Jack expects him to do after they kill the dragon. As Molly and everybody else expect him to do. As he made them all think he would.

Will raises his hands and rubs at his eyes with the heels of his hands and a deep sigh. The slight and careful pressure to his left knee returns for an instant and he knows that Hannibal knows his thoughts and the unspoken truth between them and the non intruding pressure on him calms him, and he drops his hands, his left hand covering Hannibals hand for a moment, before Hannibal returns it to the steering wheel.

Will slowly shakes his head, at himself and the whole situation, jaw working.   
When he speaks the anger evaporates once more, leaving a strange sense of quiet behind.

„Do you think he’ll be waiting for us?“

Hannibal hums, slowing down and turning unto a slightly more gravelly road before answering.

„I think he might be there already, yes, since he did have a bit of a head start. I believe it was his way of scouting the premises, was it not?“

Will nods and then sighs the word, remembering the photos of those families and the forensic ones, after.

„Yes…“

Hannibal clicks his tongue and purses his lips, tilting his head in consideration.

„Then we must be careful to honor his expectations. We will arrive soon.“

Will catches on immediately, grudgingly. 

„We must not seem on the best of terms.“

Hannibal looks at him for a moment, eyes narrowing.

„Are we on the best of terms, Will?“

Will cackles a short laugh outright, right hand coming up to his lips, elbow on the door.

„Oh, do tell, Hannibal, are we?“

Hannibal raises his chin a fraction, silently contemplating for a few seconds. When he speaks, his voice is deadly serious.

„We must stay at arms length for this to work. Not overly friendly. But intimate, I would think. Not as if we would like to christen the backseat with sweat and blood and semen at any given moment.“

Will gapes at him and then closes his mouth with an audible click, the images Hannibal conjured up with just a few selective words rather effective to fluster him. Though it is indeed good to know Hannibal would want to, even without actually knowing. He tries to clear his throat, fidgeting for a moment in his seat and then clears it again, willing the heat in his ears and other places away.

„Well then. I guess the script has been laid out for us.“

Hannibal smirks slightly and turns into the unmarked service road.

„I believe it has.“

Hannibal lowers the window on Wills side a few inches via the buttons in his door, the smell of salt and pines flooding their senses. Will inhales deeply, seeing the flash of the modern houses glass windows through the trees up ahead. Hannibal drives the car around to the back, hiding the car from anyone coming up the road. He gets out without any further comment and Will follows suit, feeling rather unsettled suddenly. He steps up to the edge of the bluff, looking down, wondering at the height. Hannibals voice shakes him from his thoughts, words heavily laced with double meaning.

„The bluff is eroding. There was more land when I was here with Abigail. More land still, when I was here with Miriam Lass.“

And suddenly Will knows this would have been their first stop if he had accepted back then. That night. Before the smile. He swallows, looking out over the sea.

„And now you’re here with me…“

Hannibal confirms, his tone almost cheerful, going for double meanings once more.

„And the bluff is still eroding. You and I are suspended above the roiling atlantic. Soon, all this will be lost to the sea.“

Will wonders for a moment if Hannibal wants to warn the dragon with his phrasing and deliberate naming of bluffs, or if he suspects after all, or if he really wants to jump down there, but then dismisses the thoughts as inconsequential. After all, two can play this game of words and this night will change them. 

He smirks, unseen.


	3. Chapter 3

Hannibal matter of factly strides into one of the bedrooms at the back of the house, starting to unbutton his prison jumpsuit on the way. Will turns on his heel and starts towards the kitchen instead, looking through the cabinets. He doubts they would be able to pull the ‚not overly friendly but intimate‘ off while showering together. Or… he shies away from the thought, trying to keep a clear head. Or would that be clearer. He sifts through the canned food, taking a pumpkin ginger soup out. It is a fancy imported can and Will doesn’t even begin to doubt even imported canned soup can taste heavenly. 

Hannibal comes back to him after a few minutes, redressed in dark and tan, toweling his hair and the domestic simplicity of it drives a sharp pain right through Will, stepping back and relinquishing the spoon with which he stirred the soup. He walks over to another room with what he hopes are measured steps, Hannibal calling after him matter of factly.

„There are clothes for you in the second room to the left. Formal only, but it should still be better than the obnoxious uniform shirt you are wearing now.“

Will rolls his eyes at that and then undresses and steps under the shower in the little en suite bathroom in the bedroom Hannibal indicated. He turns his face up into the spray, trying to calm his nerves through the water, envisioning the droplets running down his body taking away the nervous energy he cannot help but feel. He briefly ponders the coming fight and it’s with a start that he realizes that the nervousness in fact does -not- stem from the fight but from the prospect of it being over and Will being … with Hannibal. Whatever that may actually entail. Will sighs and then leans his forehead against the shower wall, the water slowly turning cold. He bangs his fist against the tile, once, before forcing himself out, toweling off and taking dress pants and a white shirt out of the closet. If anything, he can at least look nice. He hesitates and then puts the gun back into the pants, pulls the shirt out over it.

He slowly walks over to the glass front overlooking the patio, the moon stealing the colors from the just fallen night, the sea heaving and roiling far below them. A rather suicidal height, he muses quietly, wondering if there is a path down that cannot be seen from this angle. Hannibal puts on some soft classical music and Will lets himself fall into it, senses tingling.

„You’re playing games with yourself in the dark of the room…“

‚And you’re playing games with all of us in the light of day‘. It’s what Will wants to say but he holds his tongue, turning and watching Hannibal polish the glasses for the obligatory bottle of wine. Because of course there is wine here. But then, Will isn’t complaining, he could use something heartening about now. Hannibal continues, including their … guest in case he is listening in.

„Was it surprising that I heard of the great, red Dragon?“

More polishing the glasses. 

„Was it surprising when you heard from him?“

Hannibal is looking at him now, expectant, probably expecting a witty answer. Well, good luck with that.

„Yes and no.“

Hannibals face twitches with a miniature note of frustration mixed with annoyance, but he gets the drift and cuts to the chase.

„Do you intend to watch him kill me?“

Maybe. Once upon a time. Will ponders for a moment and then chooses his words very carefully, the truth hidden by the meaning.

„I intend to watch him change you.“

The dragons changing would entail raping Hannibals body and Will knows Hannibal knows he wouldn’t stand by and watch that. Hannibals eyes flash, catching the meaning of ‚change through this for me, for us, with me’ behind the words, the smile playing around his lips decidedly smug and yet pensive, thoughtful, his voice utterly honest.

„My compassion for you is inconvenient, Will.“

Wills heart skips a beat, wanting to repeat the sentiment in so many words and yet knowing he cannot, not now, not here. Not yet, the catalyst as to why he is even considering echoing in his mind, the careful answer of ‚yes‘ spoken so firmly to his desperate question. He fights to keep his face placid, his tone flat, opting for sarcasm instead.

„If your partial to beef products it’s inconvenient to be compassionate toward a cow.“

Hannibal chuckles and he opens the wine bottle, smelling the cork, deeming it worthy. He steps over, handing Will a glass and pouring him some wine. He toasts slightly, amused still.

„Save yourself, kill them all.“

Will shakes his head, admitting the truth he tried so hard to shake.

„I don’t know if I can save myself. Maybe that’s just fine?“

Hannibal looks at him, searching his expression, emotions openly displayed across his carefully controlled expression. He nods slightly to himself, accepting, carefully positioning himself between Will and the window. He pours himself a glass of wine and then raises his glass.

„No greater love has man than to lay down his life for a friend.“

Will has to look down, throat suddenly tight with emotion. The base of his spine tingles and his senses snap to it, his head coming up to meet Hannibals gaze. Showtime.

„He’s watching us now.“

„I know.“

The window shatters, as does the bottle of wine, pierced by the bullet that went through Hannibals side and he drops to the ground, a calculated drop, lest he injure himself ever more. Will looks on, hands clenched in his pocket and around the glass, watching as the dragon enters through the broken window, a gun trained on Will.

„Don’t run, I’ll catch you.“

Will lightly toasts him and steps a bit back, waiting, seeing Hannibal pull himself up against the piano. His breaths are heavy and the pang Will feels at hearing him speak through them is unexpected and yet anticipated. 

„Hello Francis.“

„Hello Dr. Lecter.“

Will takes a sip of wine to keep his nerve, feeling fidgety, watching the dragon set up a camera slowly. Hannibal seemingly addresses them both, though he is facing the dragon, once more in double meaning.

„I’m so happy you chose life, Francis. Suicide is the enemy. You were seized by a fantasy world with the brilliance and freshness and immediacy of childhood. It took you a step beyond alone.“

And Will realizes he is right. He does not wish to commit suicide anymore than go back to his old life. And neither does Hannibal. Will blinks, trying to keep the calm facade.

„I’m gonna film your death, Dr. Lecter. As dying, you meld with the strength of the Dragon.“

And of course Hannibal would find this amusing, voice colored by an almost chuckle.

„It’s a glorious, and rather discomforting idea.“

Will catches the slightly peeved and annoyed look Hannibal rather openly shoots him at that and he wonders for a moment if Hannibal is annoyed by the notion that the dragon wishes to have sex with him or the fact that it would be the dragon after his death. Or that Will is the only one that gets to taste the wine.

„Watching the film will be a wonderful, but not as wonderful as the act itself.“

Will pulls himself back to the present from his musings, alerted by the motion of Hannibals head swiveling around and he reaches for the gun, but not fast enough after all. The blinding pain slices through his right cheek, glancing off his teeth and into his tongue, the steel pressing up, up and the hand in his neck lifts him further, until the only focus is the agony of the knife, feet kicking uselessly. 

He coughs up blood, vision swimming, feels the wet stickiness make his shirt cling to his upper body. The world spins and he crashes onto the ground outside, the dragon behind him, pulling him up and Will reaches up shakingly to pull the knife from his cheek. He swings his arm back, burying the knife in a leg, who’s owner pulls it out with a snarl, the red hot agony slicing into Wills shoulder, making him exclaim sharply with the pain, flailing.

Hannibal chooses this moment to jump onto the dragons back and Wills mind seethes a ‚finally‘, dropping forward, trying to breathe and then pulls the knife out, forcing himself up and over to where the dragon kicks Hannibals gunshot wound and Will snarls and buries the knife, twice, before the dragon slams him back over to the other side, Wills vision shattering with stars. Hannibal picks this moment and grabs for the axe and swings it again and again, and Will forces himself up and slices through the dragons side, their combined blood making the ground slippery. 

The dragon falls backwards, away from them and Will looks up, over at Hannibal who catches his gaze, both bloodied and flayed wildly open. Pack hunting, indeed and Will gifts all he feels to Hannibal, knowing there is nothing to hide behind anymore after this. And then Hannibal jumps again and pulls the dragons head back, ripping out the windpipe with his teeth, the smile Will puts into his stomach with all the strength of his mangled arm huge and gaping.

The red wings spread between them, framing the dragons prone form, reaching for them both. Will tries to raise, but the blood distracts him, something Hannibal said to him not so long ago coming back in a rush and he almost smiles, face already tight and hot, tongue throbbing.

„It really does look black in the moonlight.“

He staggers over to Hannibal and reaches for him, feeling Hannibal pull him up, up against him and Will smiles, ignoring how the pull hurts so much, chest almost bursting with emotion. He looks up at Hannibals face and he sees, finally sees, Hannibals expression brutally honest, mouth still stained with the dragons blood.

„See? This is all I ever wanted for you, Will.“

And Will gasps a breath again, knowing, deciding, and he just squeezes Hannibals arm, tightly, words failing him, eyes looking down for a moment, at the dragon and the camera that Hannibal took the time to position at them. Hannibals voice pulls him back. 

„For both of us.“

It hurts. More than the wounds of them both combined, this settles somewhere in Wills chest, breaking open and cultivating years of denied longing within moments, the elation so brilliant he cannot help but almost laugh. It’s hard to form the words, but Will knows he has to, has to acknowledge, has to be honest, now, here.

„It’s beautiful.“

And Hannibal smiles, still open and raw, nodding slightly and Will just collapses against him, his head coming to rest on Hannibals chest, feeling Hannibal pull him in further, instinctually, the hands on Wills shirt grasping with a death grip. He wonders for a split second if there are plans he doesn’t know, and then decides he doesn’t care, this, now, here all he cares to keep. 

Hannibal nuzzles close and pulls him tighter, shifting his weight slightly and Will realizes he waits for him to lead their show, and so he pulls his injured arm up, his face nuzzling into Hannibals throat, lips on Hannibals clavicle, so close to where he wishes to be and yet so far. There is no strength in this arm right now, not anymore and yet he can feel Hannibal shift with him, one of his arms leaving Wills back, the momentum turning them and then the wind receives them.


	4. Chapter 4

It’s a short fall. 

A tumble more, really, the almost invisible olive green net receiving them after a few feet and pulling tight and towards the cliff, the mechanism holding it on both sides making them tumble out and onto the small hidden ledge promptly, limbs tangling and breath crushed out by each others weight. Will hits his head on a rock, his vision blurring, his left arm catching on a sharp edge and slicing open, Hannibals exclaimed shout following a sickening crunch when he literally tumbles away from Will and then a mechanical singing sound as the net pulls tight, sealing them in in the alcove. And then nothing, except their harsh breathing, and painful grunts, shuffled small movements. Will reaches blindly, groping in the dim light, pulling himself forward and over to Hannibal when he manages to find an ankle after a moment. 

Will feels his way up to Hannibals face, crawling up blindly, painfully, gasping out more blood, head throbbing. He rests his head on Hannibals chest for a moment, forehead wet with blood from his head wound, and then Hannibals hands come up, pulling and pushing him up, Hannibals left hand gripping Wills curls tightly and it’s instinct really, again, the instantly wide and deep kiss is like a homecoming, painful and bloody, brutal and base, coppery and wet and… needed beyond anything Will has ever felt, a transfer of life force, giving and receiving. He moans brokenly and then breaks away after a few moments, panting, his forehead descending to Hannibals, just feeling. 

Will forces the words out, slurred, elated and amused, shaking with too much adrenaline and emotion and not nearly enough blood.

„And here I thought we would go for a swim…“

Hannibal gasps a laugh, ending in a hiss at the pain that the movement elicits.

„Ah, I am sorry to disappoint. I had this net installed when Abigail was here. I did not wish to mar the coastline with a fence but the edge is crumbling and I did not wish to risk her. I do wish I had installed some kind of mattress in here, though.“

Will snorts darkly, hand going down to grip Hannibals throat tightly.

„Not risk her… except to save her for killing her later, you mean.“

Hannibals hand presses Wills head down further against his own, driving the words home.

„I wished to give you a family. I cannot revert time, even though I wish I could. Let me give you a family now.“

Will swallows, tightly. He flexes his hands, the one on the ground next to Hannibals head catching his attention when the ring Molly gave him flashes in the moonlight for an instant, the blood from the wound in his arm coloring it red, the wound of course precisely in -that- place. And -it- nowhere to be seen, a wild elation spreading through Will at the realization. He breathes the words, almost inaudible with the way his tongue increasingly refuses to work properly.

„There’s no point for me to go back, as you made sure.… there’s only you now… as was your intention all along.“

Hannibals hands tighten even more, bruising now.

„As it was my desire, yes.“

Will closes his eyes, just breathing for a moment, the smell of them both enveloping him. Sweat, blood and pain, adrenaline and truths mingling between them, the truth that Hannibal wanted this even without actually knowing the truth settling deep within him. Will sighs through his nose, his tongue refusing to work now, feeling twice its size in his mouth. He feels Hannibal nod slightly, already so in sync with him. Hannibal licks his lips and whispers, the hand in Wills hair stroking softly, now.

„There is a path over and around the cliffs curve starting on the right side of this alcove. I believe I broke my left leg on the tumble. Still, I think it was well worth the illusion of us both having died jumping down the bluff, it will give us some time, I believe.“

Will nods and then pushes himself up, slowly, oh so slowly forcing his limbs into submission. Hannibal follow suit, grunting with the pain. His left ankle is in an unnatural angle, making Will cringe but Hannibal simply sighs, holding himself against the rocks at the back, hobbling forward toward the right side end, and Will follows, mind numb and yet brilliantly peaceful, all the choices made.

The path stays beneath the ledge for the most part, a heathen line serving as basic handrail, only open in the cliffs face when it winds up and Will has to hold up Hannibal there, ending up carrying most of his weight in the process. They both collapse into the grass at the edge when they reach the cliffs top again, a few hundred feet behind the house, and Hannibal fumbles for a lighter throwing it at Will who just looks at it, dumbly, and Hannibal chuckles before indicating the line they used and so Will lights it, needing several tries with shaking fingers, seeing it burn rapidly, flames traveling towards the alcove, no doubt connected to the net. He raises his eyebrows and indicates the smoke curling up into the nights air but Hannibal shakes his head, eyes sparkling again, injured and hurt, yes, but far from defeated.

„The camera the dragon set up only had room for approximately 15 minutes of film. And he had already started it, so it will not tape the smoke coming up from the alcove anymore.“

Will rolls his eyes in mock exasperation and Hannibal chuckles openly, already enjoying himself way too much. Will pockets the lighter and then pushes himself up, tapping his watch twice. Hannibal pushes himself into a sitting position, hissing when the motion puts pressure on the wound in his side, tilting his head so he can look up at Will, teeth flashing in a sharp grin.

„My beautiful mongoose. Having slain the most dangerous snake of them all.“

Will rolls his eyes again with an exasperated expression and then holds out his bloody left hand, his right arm more or less useless by now. Hannibal pulls himself up fully with both hands keeping Wills left hand in his right, the pressure and pain grounding Will, and then Hannibal hobbles towards the tree line, indicating a shed, half hidden there. 

They wrench the door open, the rusted hinges giving way with an ominous creak, revealing the covered shape of a truck, and Hannibal sighs and squeezes Wills hand once, before hopping forward and pulling the cloth off. It’s a dark gray dodge pickup with dark windows, an older model, back covered and sealed and Hannibal opens the door and pulls himself in, pulling the keys from behind the front seat. Well at least not in the -most- obvious place. Will grins to himself when he hears Hannibal turn the key, the engine just clicking, but refusing to start. He looks around the shed, feeling Hannibals mounting irritation like a dark green fog, seeping towards him and weirdly enough it just amuses him further. 

He finds some oil cans and a tap, filling a small pot with water and walks back, indicating for Hannibal to open the front hood when he deigns to look up, thunder in his expression. Will grins, more to himself than anyone else and then checks the engine, refilling the water and oil, checking the connections, and finally kicks out the little snake that seems to really like the hideout, watching it slither away. Now there’s an analogy. He nods to Hannibal and slams the hood back down when the engine roars to life finally, and Will pretends to not notice how Hannibals eyes close for an instant, obviously relieved. Will keeps a hand on the car on his way over to the other door, dropping into the seat utterly exhausted and bloody but also very much relieved, head falling sideways to look at Hannibal. Hannibals hand comes up and over, softly cupping Wills jaw, thumb stroking over his ear and Will swallows, turning his head into the caress. 

Hannibals eyes narrow and darken and then he drops his hand suddenly, taking the wheel, foot pushing the accelerator, turning the car down the small forest road leading away and slightly downward. Will raises and eyebrow and then both when Hannibal turns off the engine and kills the lights suddenly, letting the car roll on beneath the low trees, Wills eyes straining to see the road and then the helicopter thunders over the top of the trees right above them, circling over the house. Wills hissed ‚shit‘ is a slurred ‚sh‘, echoed in the grim set of Hannibals mouth. Will twists back, seeing blue and red lights flash through the trees far behind them, just as they turn around the winding rock side, the darkness of the rocks in the moonlight swallowing their old lives.


	5. Chapter 5

Hannibal grimly turns the engine back on when the car slows to an almost halt, just half a mile down the road, winding back up. He keeps the lights off, the low lighting of the instruments bathing them both in an eerie glow, watching the trees go by. The feeble light bounces off their various wounds, the reflections making it very clear they are still both oozing fresh blood, and Will cannot help worrying about the amount by now. Especially of the shot Hannibal received, clean through mostly muscle, yes, but ugly and big due to the bullet going through the window first. He reaches over with his left fingers, hovering over the wound and Hannibal clasps his hand with his right for a moment, squeezing, his voice steel and exhaustion, pure force of mind literally driving them both.

„We will stop at a small cabin I know not far from here. With any luck they will expect us to either be dead, sea-bound or trying to run far and fast, not looking too closely so near. There should be sufficient medical equipment to dress our various wounds there.“

Will draws his brows together, trying to form the words and failing. He sighs and then writes ‚Chiyo‘ in the dust on the instrument board. Hannibal hums, a small smile playing on his face.

„I am aware that you asked Chiyo for a boat that we could use after our fall. I believe she procured one for us. It will be waiting for us, stocked, at a predetermined marina.“

He looks over at Will for a moment, eyes unfathomable. 

„Will you heal with me?“

Will swallows, knowing the deeper meaning of ‚Will you stay with me, come with me, this time?‘. He offers his left hand, the wound in the wrist gaping, palm up and Hannibal closes his right over it, entwining their fingers. 

_____________

 

They reach the cabin within just another 20 minutes, 10 minutes of those spent going slightly backwards on the highway, brazenly ignoring the police cars rushing past them, the slightly darkened windows of the truck shielding them from direct view, and Will smiles grimly, seeing the big truck with ‚FBI-7‘ among them. If only Jack knew. Will smirks wryly and then regrets the motion when pain shoots through his cheek anew and he presses his fist against the door to breathe through it. Hannibal turns to him slightly, still so controlled but Will can see the sheen of sweat and fever on his brow, his voice rough.

„We will reach the cabin soon. There should be pain medication there. However, I believe we should transform the truck first, as well as change the license plates.“

Will looks at him incredulously, dropping his gaze to the wound in Hannibals side for a moment, his expression saying it all. Hannibal continues, breaths heavy between the words.

„This truck is covered in a special foil. It should come off rather easily. And you will find the license plate in the back is only clipped on. I had anticipated something like this.“

Will snorts and then bangs his fist against the door once more, breathing through the pain, slightly shaking his head at himself. Hannibal pulls off the highway and onto a small property right next to the exit, hidden behind some trees. It’s a small cabin and Hannibal parks the car behind it, hidden from direct view and forces himself out, hissing when his feet touch the ground.

Will fumbles with the door, his fingers shaking and then he waves at Hannibal, indicating the cabin, pulling at one of the edges of the foil on the car that’s really quite obvious if you know where to look. He pulls and to his utter relief it comes off rather easily and he nods at Hannibal, once more waving at the cabin before turning back to the task of transforming their car from gray to red. Hannibal watches him for a moment, his gaze heavy on Will before turning towards the cabin, hobbling into it. Will turns back to his task, bunching the foil up into a tight ball on the way, knowing bending down later will take even more energy. He throws the foil into the space behind their seats when he’s done, invisible from outside and then forces himself to the back of the truck, reaching for the license plate, taking it with him towards the cabin, his feet leaden weights, getting heavier with each step. 

He pushes in, finding Hannibal in the bedroom just off the small living room, the sounds of cars on the highway matching the rushing in his ears. Hannibal is spreading out equipment on the double bed and Will collapses on one corner, forcing himself to stay seated, carelessly throwing the license plate into one corner. Hannibal pushes a syringe his way and Will simply takes it and injects himself with it, uncaring. All the dice have rolled anyway.  
The warmth spreads with breathtaking speed and Will moans with it, the absence of pain almost euphoria. Hannibal chuckles slightly and then passes Will a needle and thread, turning around matter of factly, sitting down right next to Will on the edge, wordlessly asking Will to stitch the wound in his back. Will breathes deeply a few times, trying to steady his fingers, and then pushes the shirt away with shaking fingers, trying not to dwell on how Hannibals skin feels under his hands, or how the blood already smells a bit differently to him, and stitches the wound up, Hannibal asking him only to stitch the deep layers as well. He tries to keep the stitches small and clean but probably does a piss-poor job, the wound tight and rather ugly in his admittedly biased opinion when he finally cuts the thread, the skin under his hands hot to the touch. 

Hannibal silently takes the needle from him, cleaning the wound once more with some sterile water, pink blood dripping to the floor. Will watches it drip, less and less as Hannibal stitches that wound closed as well. He turns to Will next, inspecting the shoulder and his wrist first, and tapes both shut, the wounds not very big. Thank heavens for small favors. He checks Wills head wound, feeling the bump but only huffs annoyed, leaving it. Another little scar then there as well. Nothing like the big one in his cheek and Will smirks wryly, the pain a numb memory somewhere, muted by the medication in his system. Hannibal reaches up and cups his jaw again and Wills eyes lock onto his and Hannibals left hand comes up, softly pushing Wills mouth open, feeling along his tongue. Will lets himself fall into the intimacy, pain and blood and breath fusing them in the moment, the atmosphere between them throbbing. Hannibals pupils dilate and Will cannot help it, he closes his mouth and sucks and he hears Hannibal groan sharply and then chuckle darkly, his voice admiring and brutal.

„Vicious boy. Whatever will I do with you.“

Will swallows and Hannibal draws his fingers out with a hiss, closing his eyes for a moment. Will smirks at him, and Hannibal traces his lips for a moment, before almost harshly turning his face away and starting to stitch the wound in Wills cheek, touch deft and efficient. His voice is gruff and yet dreamy when he speaks.

„I would like you to refrain to speak until your tongue has healed, which should not take more than two or three days, I think. The wound in your cheek will take longer and scar but I will keep it at a minimum. A truly beautiful kintsugi.“

Hannibal cuts the thread and then pushes almost all the equipment off the bed, only holding two bags with saline infusions up. He pushes himself up and secures them to the bedpost, movements forced and jerky, and Will falls forward, crawling towards the other side, knowing all thoughts of propriety will be gone within three days at most anyway, now that the implant has gone and the choices have been made. Hannibal looks at him, a deeply touched expression on his face and Will almost feels sorry for deceiving him for so long. Well, almost.

He sighs and takes the bloody shirt off, kicking the shoes off as well, the motions to take off the bloody trousers taking some of his last energy. He falls back onto the bed and pushes his left arm towards Hannibal, offering the soft skin to the needle. Hannibal bends over with a sigh, his eyes closing when the needle goes in and Will would have laughed if he had still had the energy to do so.  
Penetrative issues, my ass.

He pulls the blanket up and turns slightly towards Hannibal, watches him administer the needle as well, watches as Hannibal pulls his own clothes off torturously slow, the mattress dipping slightly when Hannibal falls down next to him and Will pulls the blanket up and covers Hannibal, his eyes coming up to drown in blackish red, expanding until they take over his consciousness.


	6. Chapter 6

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Will had expected to wake up to the smell of coffee and, or breakfast. Probably. Chicken soup, maybe. Instead he wakes up sometime during the next day, the sun streaming into their little bedroom, copper and sweat permeating the room and he hides his eyes behind his hand. The saline bag sparkles empty between his fingers just in his line of vision and he pulls the needle out, throwing it towards the far end of the bed before turning towards the middle, shoulder, wrist and head hurting like a bitch. 

He watches for a moment, watches the rise and fall of Hannibals chest, beads of sweat on his brow, obviously feverish. Will pulls a face and then forces himself up, the world wobbling around him before he stumbles to the small bathroom, relieving himself. He tries to find some antibiotics in the mess they made the day before, but ends up cleaning up their clothes and equipment one piece after the other, too much blood and fragments on both to discern details otherwise. He drops down onto the bed, relieved, when he finally finds the small vials, reading the instructions carefully, administering the shot to Hannibals arm first and then to his own.

He rubs the small drop of blood following the needle out of Hannibals arm into the skin there, the small smear clinging to his finger a sirens call already and he sighs, looking down at his own wrist wistfully. Life changing events and all that. Will swallows, utterly grateful for this moment of singular and peaceful deliberation, watching Hannibal so calm, strong features cast into a warm glow from he light. He sighs, nods once and smirks to himself and then crawls back over, his mind and body falling back into slumber almost immediately.

 

***

The next time Will wakes it is night again. And Hannibal is plastered all over his back, snoring softly into his neck. Will examines his bodily functions and integrity quietly, relieved when there is no bite mark in his neck. Yet, he amends quietly, the prospect rather final in his expectation. He sighs, deeply, and then burrows back against Hannibal, feeling the soft hair against his back, the slightly bulkier frame and the heavy arm around his waist, Hannibals hand pressed close to his heart. Will wriggles and pushes his own hand over Hannibals, the skin much cooler than before. He raises his eyes to the moon just visible beyond the window and then watches the shadows dance on the black blood, still splattered on their skin until he falls back asleep.

***

The smell of coffee. Will grins slightly and then yawns and stretches, back and joints popping, rolling over, knowing there’s room to do so right now. His stomach rumbles and he huffs a laugh, groaning when he pulls himself into a sitting position against the headboard, his tongue almost okay again, though good is still a far way off. He carefully traces his cheek, feeling the skin tight but only slightly hot, and he drops his head against the headboard, relieved. 

There are measured steps from he kitchen and Hannibal enters, showered, still pale but collected, dressed in simple jeans and a red sweater, carrying a cup of coffee. He smiles at Will, a tad forcefully and puts the cup onto the nightstand, before retreating to stand against the doorframe. Will raises his eyebrows and lowers his head a fraction, this definitely not what he expected. He clears his throat, addressing the elephant in the room, voice rusty and words slightly slurred.

„I… I thought you, especially you would know or… suspect already… the very least after… we kissed.“

Hannibal tilts his head, expression open but guarded. His voice, when he finally answers, slightly amused and yet laced with consternation.

„I in fact did not. Whatever it was you did as suppressive measures did a very fine job indeed. You presented as a Beta, all the way through to blood and saliva. I must admit, I once had the suspicion but could not find any implants in the usual places. Or medication anywhere in your house. Or… toys. Even when I looked while I was…“

Hannibal trails off and Will snorts, harshly, continuing the sentence, emotions a rollercoaster.

„… while you were messing with my mind? I didn’t know you took these kind of liberties.“

Hannibal clicks his tongue, tone intense, crossing his arms in front of his chest in a rare defensive gesture.

„I never took sexual liberties with you, Will. If I had, I believe I would have known. And in fact, I had always considered the principles of Alpha and Omega rather obsolete, never having met anyone presenting who was striking my fancy anyway. However…“

Hannibal pauses, considering. His tone is grave when he continues.

„Looking back, I believe I would have force bonded you if I had known.“

Will pulls a face and looks out the window for a moment, colorful flashes of cars rushing by on the highway there and gone again. Hannibal takes a step towards him and then stops, and Will can see Hannibals nostrils flaring when he turns his head towards him. Will clears his throat, voice trembling a bit, locking gazes nonetheless.

„And now? Now that I am presenting? Or starting to?“

Hannibal smiles a snarling smile that travels right through Will, settling deep within him, his body not yet able to fulfill the commands his brain wants to issue at this. Wills hands clench on the blanket, and Hannibal inhales, deeply, licking his lips. His voice is amused and dreamy, wonder swinging in the tone.

„And now, whatever we will be, whatever you will allow me to be, will be even more perfect.“

Will exhales a breath he didn’t know he held, a faint smile playing around his lips.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tattle crime heading by Lara Jean btw, @ RDC2 :)

Will forces himself out of the bed and into the shower after the wonderfully disgusting instant coffee, watching the blood wash away bit by bit, the pinkish rivulets disappearing down the drain, his skin prickling. He feels renewed, hormones washed out of his system with lightning speed, as his body works at replacing so much blood with new. Will closes his eyes, his head falling back, the water calming him. 

He can literally smell Hannibal at the other side of the room beyond the wall, can feel how his own nature rears up and prepares, so long denied. It’s gonna be a bad one, he can tell. He licks his lips, and shakes his head once, accepting the inevitable. The wheels were in motion already when he kissed Hannibal, the final detail revealed early by accident but not … unwanted. He licks his lips again, allowing himself to acknowledge that he wants those lips again. And other things. The flashes before his inner eye don’t exactly calm him and he turns the water ice cold, forcing his traitorous body into submission. 

He joins Hannibal in the small open kitchen, dressed in somewhat fitting jeans and a sweater as well, in green, barefoot. Hannibal looks up and softly smiles at him but doesn’t stop the chopping of some kind of canned vegetable, some kind of soup heating on the stove. Will drops down on one of the chairs of the small, round, wooden table, pulling his right leg up and leaning it against the edge of the desk, foot on the chair. He watches Hannibal not looking at him, knowing he can nonetheless sense him intensely. Has always been able to do so. Hannibal puts the chopped vegetables into the soup, turning the temperature down to a low simmer, wiping his hands and then clears his throat, stepping over to Will with measured steps, sitting down in the other chair across from Will, movements carefully controlled.

Will traces a vein in the wooden surface, lips pursed. His voice is soft, guarded though still slightly slurred.

„So… how bad is it?“

Hannibal chuckles and looks down at his hands, obviously contemplating. When he looks up he locks their gazes, and the thrum between them beats once, hard, taking their breaths. Hannibal touches his teeth with the tip of his tongue, sending a jolt to Wills groin. When he speaks, his tone is amused and yet almost exhausted.

„Already I wish for some of the obnoxious aftershave you were so fond of long ago. If anything, I believe -this- may be able to mask your scent.“

He pauses, a small smile playing on his lips. 

„Of course, it helped considerably with the masking even as a Beta, did it not?“

Will shrugs, a small almost embarrassed smile playing on his lips, and he looks down, watches his fingers trace the wood.

„It was my fathers… I went on suppressants per long-time implant right after my first heat, when I was 15. It helped.“

He looks up, seeing Hannibals eyes darken in surprise and the knowledge this entails and smirks, self deprecatingly.

„Yeah, I know. Going off suppressants after decades on them will force a heat, because the body over-compensates.“

He inhales deeply, eyes closing, hands stilling, voice dropping to a whisper.

„Wasn’t planned this way… but I guess that’s why you never found toys in your invasion of my privacy… Dr. Lecter.“

Will licks his lips, returning to what Hannibal said earlier.

„Of course, I did not wish to put you into an uncomfortable position that you don’t want to be in… Maybe you should leave until it has passed. I’ll survive.“

‚Somehow‘ his mind amends quietly and he grinds his teeth, missing the scratching of the chair as Hannibal pushes it back and moves over to him, going to his knees next to his left leg. Hannibal puts his hand on his left knee once more, just letting it rest there, his forehead descending to Wills thigh after a moment and Will cannot not put his fingers into the silvery hair, dragging and scratching the skin, playing with the strands.

When Hannibal speaks, there is amusement and fatality in his tone, but also something that makes Will shiver.

„You misunderstand me, Will. I think it is -bad- already because you are not even on the cusp of your heat. And already I can feel it forming, can feel the need to take you singing under my skin. I have desired your mind for so long, hungered after your body for many years as well, and now, now that our biology has revealed us to be perfect mates, I am… afraid that I cannot stand to wait until your heat to claim you, bond you…. breed you.“

Will swallows, his fingers in Hannibals hair tightening.

„Not a perfect mate. Don’t you know, Hannibal, that male Omegas cannot be bred. We’re an aberration of nature. Rare and recessive, a dying out line.“

Hannibal exhales against his thigh shakingly, turning his head so he is facing Will, so close to his crotch. Will follows the movement with his fingers, tracing Hannibals temple now, feathery touches at the soft spot next and under his right eye. Hannibal smiles softly and reaches up to catch Wills fingers, bringing them to his mouth and kisses them softly, his voice achingly tender, words breathed against them.

„I do know. It does not in fact stop the base desire to do so. And you have misunderstood me there as well. I do not need little pups to build a family with you, nor would it be wise to have some while on the run. I need only you. And it makes -you my- perfect mate. As I believe the most base part of me has always known.“

Wills breath stops, their eyes locking and then Hannibal rears up, straddling Wills thigh in one smooth motion, his hands coming up to both sides of Wills face, panted breaths and almost moans reverberating through the space between them. And then Hannibal licks broadly up Wills face, across his lips and the side of his nose, and Will jerks, truly panting now, a low, keening sound breaking free. Hannibal stops again, growling and forces himself back, hissing the next words.

„Your body is not ready. Especially if you have never shared a heat. I -will- control myself until it is.“

He comes even closer to Will, teeth scraping along his jaw.

„When it is, I will claim and bond you. And I hope you will complete the cycle.“

Will moans, dropping his head back and sideways, neck offered instinctually. He can hear Hannibal chuckle darkly through the fog in his mind, hisses when the sharp teeth nip at his lower lip.

„Soon, beloved.“

____________________

 

Hannibal stays on the other side of the room after that for most of the time, all of the 5 feet available, the front of his jeans denting obscenely. Not that Will is faring much better. He eats dutifully, ignoring the pain it elicits in his cheek and tongue, knowing he will need his strength. Rather sooner than later, too. 

He watches as Hannibal checks his gun shot wounds, redresses his foot and Will is slightly envious for the superior Alpha healing, the thought that Hannibals saliva will likely speed up his own recovery when mating making him swallow thickly.

They watch the news online on an old, dusty notebook, connected to the internet via burner phone hotspot, amused at how the FBI apparently takes their bait, looking for their bodies at sea. Tattle Crime Online has Will laughing out loud, and yelping with pain right after, the headline ‚Romeo and Juliet - who cares?“ staring at them. 

It’s… nice. Will crosses his arms over his chest, fervently wishing he could hold onto … something, the dark gaze of Hannibal a leaden weight from across the sofa. Will sighs softly and suddenly Hannibal is there, almost snarling, but taking him into his arms, drawing him back against his chest, their arms locking together, the pressure against Wills lower back heavenly dirty. Will licks his lips, forcing the words out, though trying to keep them soft.

„What about staying away?“

Hannibal snarls fully at him, nosing at the hair at his nape, the words low and considering, knowing.

„As you know, Alphas are prone to fulfill their Omegas wishes. I cannot stay away any more than you can help wish for it.“

Will drops his head back against Hannibals shoulder, continuing the thought.

„… because an Alpha would always try to calm and soothe their Omega, the resulting power exchange constant and irresistible….“

Hannibal growls into his ear.

„Yes. I can force you to submit to me, but in the end, I am always at your mercy.“

Hannibal grips at Wills hair with his left hand, turning his head, looking him straight in the eye. 

„As it has always been.“

Will grins slightly, referring to their earlier conversation.

„If you had known, back then, you might have thought about force bonding me, but, in the end, you wouldn’t have been able to, because it would have been against every instinct, every urge… every need.“

Will drops his gaze to Hannibals lips, wanting and Hannibal moans and descends on him, both pressing a bit up and shift to ease the angle, their mouths engaging into an age-old dance neither is willing to control. Wills fingernails dig into the meat of Hannibals arms, leaving crescent shaped red shapes behind, their tongues battling for dominance.  
He starts to moan into Hannibals mouth, sharply, his hips taking up a slight rhythm, relieving and applying pressure, feeling the tension between them mount. Hannibal groans into him and then starts sucking on Wills tongue, his right arm dropping down to Wills crotch. He forces his hand in without opening the button, the pressure intensifying the roughness even more, and Will cannot help it, the hand closing around his cock shattering him with a hard suck on his tongue, a low scream echoing into Hannibals mouth. 

Hannibal rips his mouth away after that, panting against Wills face, his gaze traveling across Wills face, before he pushes his hand further down, probing at Wills entrance, fingertips just dragging though the slick there, their eyes locked. He pulls his hand out and brings it up, licks through it, moaning. Will moans with him, unbelieving, body spent and yet still thrumming, a dull ache permeating his body. Hannibal licks at his hand once more, before humming, voice a growling hissed snarl.

„Very soon.“

He grips Wills jaw with his messy hand, uncaring, waits until their gazes properly lock again, their minds syncing up.

„Last chance to change your mind and leave, Will. I will not be able to resist this… resist you for much longer.“

Will mewls softly, his mouth dry. He feels the dull ache spread and knows Hannibal is correct. He pushes himself off the couch with heavy movements, stepping towards the bedroom, standing in the doorway for a moment, caressing the frame. He looks back at Hannibal from under his lashes, a come-hither look going by the expression on Hannibals face and Will grins, suddenly feeling utterly light and free, tone viciously carefree.

„Well then, come here and sleep. We need our rest, I think. And when we wake up… make me yours… if you dare.“

He turns and steps into the bedroom on the last words, grinning wildly when the deep growl follows him immediately, the footsteps announcing Hannibal obedience.


	8. Chapter 8

Will trashes to consciousness, NEED permeating his very being. It’s everywhere and always, all rational thought banned, only ‚here‘ ‚now‘ ‚please‘ still available. There is a scent that’s promising calm and gratification and he hones in on it, sweaty face pushing through coarse chest hair, up, up, towards the source, the scent gland at the base of Hannibals throat a sirens call, irresistible. He brushes a nipple in the process and feels the moan, the undulation, but ignores it, needing to be there, needing it, needing something, the dull ache of before a flaring chasm now. He is gripped tightly and forced onto his back, his clothes ripped away and he hones into the flesh so close, pure Alpha, maybe even purebred, licking at a clavicle, fingers gripping tightly, pressing into flesh, senses singing. 

The hand in his hair grips and pets alternatingly, soothing and holding still, and something in him clenches, and Will cries out, teeth gritting together harshly. A hand forces his thighs apart and then there are fingers forcing themselves in, both of them moaning in desperate relief when the action is met with a rush of slick, the soft squelching sounds drowned by deep moans and growls. The grounding firm presence moves over him and between his legs and Will throws himself back as far as he can, legs going up to the others waist, the smell soothing the frantic fear of being alone in this, enveloping him and his legs are pushed up even further, spreading almost painfully. 

There is a blunt pressure and it hurts, hurts like nothing Will has ever felt and yet he wants it, craves it, holding tight, the entry robbing him of breath and sight, only this, this, always this. There is a shaky exhale against his skin when the burn stops in motion, and then it is withdrawn and Will keens, a high sound, knowing he needs and then it slams back into him, taking every thought. Will locks his ankles behind that back, locks his arms behind that neck and burrows his nose to that scent, holding on.

The rhythm is brutal, need and lust taking precedence, Wills body adjusting slowly, the pain fading away, leaving iridescent pleasure in its wake. He feels speared open, the cock driving into him feeling huge and yet his body wants more, needs more and he mewls, lifting his hips even further, and Hannibal catches on right away, taking his legs and putting them onto his shoulder, changing the angle until each slam forces a staccato shout out of Will, sweat dripping from Hannibals forehead onto him, the snarl presented full, and then Wills shouted moans change cadence and Hannibals growl literally forces itself into his body as well, echoing around the room and Hannibal wrenches Wills head back and sideways, exposing Wills neck, and Will tilts it even further, every cell in his body wanting it, feeling Hannibals knot expand and expand, locking their bodies together, the pressure a dull deep pain, catering to the basest need.   
Hannibal lurches forward and he bites down, his sharp teeth biting deep into the juncture of Wills neck and throat, his saliva coating the scent gland in Wills neck, and Wills eyes roll back into his head, his body seizing, his orgasm whitening everything and then dragging him to darkness, Hannibal surrendering to his body, short spurts of ecstasy marking him from within, the knot prolonging the agonized pleasure until nothing else exists.

***

He feels Hannibal withdraw an intermediate time later, instantly moaning with the loss. He licks his lips, Hannibals lips are on his own right away, licking and biting, softly. The wound in his neck oozes blood, freely and he reaches up and traces the indents, temporarily sated and clear, although he can feel it build again, already. 

He takes his hand away, fingers bloody and then licks at the blood, Hannibal watching breathlessly. Will hums and then reaches up and smears the blood across Hannibals lips, following his fingers with his lips, kissing and licking it off. Will can feel the pull of the bond gathering, not fully realized, nor legally binding, the returning bite needed to fully bloom, though a one-sided bond would still bind him emotionally to Hannibal, make him mellower towards him, gift him with the right to not testify against him. 

Will pulls Hannibal down, his body covered from head to toe, their tongues playing now, soft hums and chuckles between kisses, breath once more available. He draws back, and Hannibal lifts his head, and Will pushes his head sideways, sees how the skin there stretches, and he traces it, musing.   
If he returns the bite, their bond will flare up, unbreakable, binding them together, legally even, a bonded pair surpassing modern marriage vows even today, but it would also give Hannibal the right to not testify.   
And to legally own him. 

Will swallows, scratches his nails over the spot, Hannibal undulating over him with the feeling, the glide of skin on skin triggering almost aftershocks in Will, but it is the whispered ‚mylimasis‘ that does it, and Will drops his hands, scrambling to pull the ring off his left hand in the small space between their upper bodies and then Hannibal stills his hand, his fingers gliding over Wills. Will looks up, trying to discern his mood and starts at the expression. Hannibal simply looks broken, throat working as he carefully pulls the ring off, putting it onto the night stand with a soft click.   
Will smiles a quavering smile and then pushes Hannibals head sideways again, knowing he should wait for his heat to strike again, his pheromones dimming any pain in them both, but knows he cannot, knows he has to do it now, while he is clear, knows what he is doing. He licks his lips, drawing near, and then licks over the spot, groaning. He sucks at the skin for a few moments, feels the effect this has on Hannibal, his arousal hot and heavy against Wills thigh once more and Will spreads his legs this time of his own volition, knowing now, wanting now, still so open and ready. 

Hannibal holds himself up for a moment, Wills whispered ‚yes‘ making him groan, and he comes down between them, and Will moves his hips just a bit and then Hannibal glides into him, connecting them once more. It still hurts and yet it is so good Will can hardly breathe, his body adapting to the girth slowly, again. Hannibal is still mostly on top of him, Wills legs still down, the angle not perfect but oh so good already and he licks at that spot again, groaning. Hannibal starts a minute movement, just a slight rolling of hips, the friction so delightful Will just holds for a moment, just receiving, mouth open agains Hannibals throat. He suddenly laughs, and feels Hannibals arms come around him at that, gathering him even closer, Hannibals lips closing over his bite with an echoing chuckle, slightly sucking. Will starts rolling his hips as well, meeting, no desperation this time, just an almost sated lust, laced with emotional need. He laughs again, softly and then opens his mouth wide, positioning it carefully, feels Hannibal hold onto him even more tightly, preparing, stilling, waiting.

Will bites down, forcing his teeth into the skin, deep, blood welling up instantly, the moment when the bond completes like a punch to his stomach. He feels Hannibal shake over him and then Hannibal bites down into the mark again as well, their bodies taking each others essences at the same time, creating euphoria.   
Something in Will breaks open and he feels tears trail down his cheeks, and then Hannibal comes up again, and Will pulls his teeth out as well, the kiss instinctual and bloody and yet tender, conveying the depth of the decision. Hannibals hands come up and he holds Wills head as if he could shatter, and Will realizes he is crying as well. Hannibal pushes his hips forward, making them both cry out, his knot swelling. He just holds there, and Will pulls him down, kisses him until the pleasure between them takes away his thoughts once more, dimly aware of the heat that claims him, inside.

***

Will comes back to himself a few hours later, their slow claiming having only intensified the following rut apparently, this one of the few lucid moments. He turns over, finding the bed empty, his senses informing him that Hannibal is in the bathroom and he stretches, feeling suspiciously happy, considering the situation they are in. That they have not checked up on. He groans and then pushes himself up, padding into the kitchen, naked, turning the notebook on in the process. The dull ache inside him is still there, still flaring but food taking precedence in his brain right now and he drags a piece of thawed up bread and devours it, uncaring for the taste. He checks the news, snarling and pleased when there is nothing new yet, though the FBI apparently looks into other venues as well. Will wonders quietly how long it might take them until they find the little alcove with both their blood…. and the implant. Somewhere. Will fervently wishes for it to have fallen into the sea but suspects he may not be that lucky. He shrugs, nothing to be done about it now anyways and turns towards the bathroom, taking another piece of bread for the way. 

He enters, Hannibals smell intensifying and Will moans, the need already rearing back up. Hannibal is under the shower, beckoning, and Will goes, sliding up to him, needing the skin on skin contact. He cannot help but notice that they are both aroused again already and Hannibal looks down between them, words broken by small kisses.

„You will be the death of me, mylimasis.“

Will grins and then snarls, eyes flashing with mirth.

„Oh, you tell me I should have opted for someone younger -now? You couldn’t have done that before our bonding?“

Hannibal growls and spins him around, crowding him against the shower wall and Will groans, happily, hips tilting and Hannibal presses into him, arm snaking around Wills chest, hand on Wills throat. He snaps his hips and Will has a fleeting thought that this is ‚really fucking into him‘ now, hard, before all thoughts are gone, Hannibals right hand on Wills cock providing a desperate counterpoint, bringing him to the brink of orgasm within moments. And then Hannibal presses down beneath the crown, staving it off and Will moans in disbelief, hearing Hannibals breathless chuckle.

He does it again and again until Will is a quivering mess, sobbing in delight, held up only by the thrusts, the water long cold, their bodies providing more than enough heat. And then Hannibal lets Wills cock go, moves the hand to his neck and presses him into the tiles with his fingers on certain pressure points, the angle uncomfortable and vulnerable, the command a growl.

„Come.“

And Will does, speared open and held down, yielding to the power that threatens to consume him.

It takes a while before Hannibals knot deflates this time, and he turns the water off for it, the intensity of the sex prolonging the wait. Hannibal nuzzles at Wills nape, licking softly, his voice sated now, words mumbled.

„Anything else I can possibly help you with, beloved?“

Will grins, rolling his shoulders, his back and his hips, feeling the tug, sending aftershocks through them both.

„Yeah. Wine me, dine me and then breed me again.“

Hannibal groans, though his voice is reflecting amused sincerity.

„Always. Anything.“


	9. Chapter 9

Three days later Will wakes to feel the ache gone, replaced by a bone-deep satiation, a gratification on cellular level permeating him. He smells coffee again, sunlight streaming through the window and he sighs, before getting up, putting on some underwear he finds that is not ripped apart and he opens the window, letting fresh air in. He smirks wryly to himself as the room airs, the deep smell of sex and -them- thinning but oh so pleasing.

He reaches up and traces the almost healed imprints on his neck, the spot worried again and again during the last few days and dosed in saliva in between, Hannibal returning again and again there, making sure the scarring is deep and silvery, permanent. As if that what is between them now could ever be broken. 

Will closes his eyes for a moment, remembering the way Hannibals flesh yielded before his own teeth, how he ensured in turn the scar on Hannibals neck would still be raw and red, breaking it open again and again, the expression of pure bliss on Hannibals face as he would lean in to do so addictive in its own right.

A soft tug between them, their bond singing and Will turns, following the unvoiced request to the living room, stepping up to the table and seating himself, in his underwear and uncaring. Hannibal turns to him from where he is making scrambled eggs from some preprocessed fluid eggs, food wise aspirations sacrificed for practicality. He takes the pan to the table and fills their plates, instant coffee already steaming and Will smiles at him, a small smile but honest, not scared now that the heat has passed, but… cautious. This is all still so new. He takes a sip of the coffee, enjoying the bad taste and the warmth.

Hannibal hesitates when he puts the pan down, his gauge for Will right on spot now of course, a mated Alpha, his senses trained on his Omega, always. Will sighs and then extends his hand, and Hannibal comes, once more… cuddling, dropping to his knees next to him, arms embracing Wills middle. Hannibals voice is quiet, considering, non-intruding, and yet unyielding, sure. It puts Will at ease and the thought ‚as it always has‘ flits through his mind.

„Your heat has broken. And even though you cannot be bred, as you so precisely put it, your body has absorbed so much of my essence, that I can smell the change in your scent. As will everybody we will encounter. There will be no mistaking you for a Beta anymore.“

Will takes another sip from his coffee, mulling over the words for a moment. When he speaks, it is with a finality that has Hannibal watch him closely.

„Good.“

Will watches Hannibal wonder and then tilts his head, amused.

„You didn’t think I’d want that?“

Hannibal opens his mouth and then closes it again, clicking his tongue. He chooses his words carefully.

„You had lived the majority of your life as a Beta, even married as one. I was unsure as to how you would feel after the need abated.“

Hannibal tilts his head, drawing his open mouth along Wills unclad thigh, teeth lightly scraping, sending goosebumps everywhere, before continuing.

„I am curious, Will - were you planning on letting me know before fate forced your hand?“ 

Will hums, eyes taking on a faraway look. He starts to draw his fingers through Hannibals hair again, just petting quietly, drawing the answer from the depths of his soul.

„I…I didn’t dare to know how you felt. Of course I suspected, used it against you and I knew I had to -know- though… so… after long talks about Bluebeard and madness and wives I… finally asked her. She asked me if I ached for you and I… I broke open. And when the dragon faked his death and I had to secure my well being by supposedly trading it for yours I… I knew that if you really were in love with me then, I could be honest with you. Eventually.“

Will pauses, eyebrows drawing together. 

„I had thought we would be able to discuss it, first. That maybe we could plan taking the implant out, together. To be honest, I was so sure you had an inkling considering how I reacted when you started stroking my hair in the car when we were kissing. I almost lost it there.“

Will snorts, teeth flashing in a quick grin.

„And then fate as you put it intervened, and that’s all she wrote.“

Hannibal presses closer, his face pressing into Wills hip. 

„Indeed.“

They stay that way a long time, their food getting cold. It’s only when the notebook chimes that they move, Hannibal checking the mail while Will digs in, the meal bland but filling. Hannibal returns after a moment, sitting down to eat his own, smirking at Will between bites.

„Our boat appears ready. Would you like to sail to South America with me?“

Will grins, taking the cup of coffee and toasting Hannibal with it. 

„Sure. However, first I wish to say thank you to an old friend.“

Hannibal tilts his head, his eyes narrowing, waiting for Will to continue. Will clicks his tongue, his tone taking on a vicious undertone.

„I wish to make sure all of Bluebeards other wives are dead.“

Hannibal hums, lips pursed. His tone is light, eyes twinkling, both belying the sincerity and gravity of his words, pride and hunger coloring them.

„Ethereal boy, if you leave me I will eat your heart.“

Wills heart skips a beat, the mortal coil falling away.

**Author's Note:**

> \-----------------
> 
> This is my first foray into A/B/O.  
> Please - let me know what you think?
> 
> Also, I might already have the name for a series (lol^^)... so.  
> If you guys like this then there... might be more.


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